Art of Creation
The sky is a-gouache
With watercolour blue behind it.
It is so clear, what I must do.
The spring green buds
Appear, like freckles, freshly drawn upon the faces of the trees.
Their smiles are blowing endlessly,
And it is crystal clear what I must do.
But the world will try to make you into a cartoon,
Defecate on you, and you will yearn
To turn around and dish it back to them.
But please depart from the caricature.
Return to the art. See nature,
How it receives the filthy manure.
The trees accept it and turn it into blooms and fruit.
It is very clear what I must do.
Who will come and stand with me,
Even amidst all the poop,
To be painted grandly in Life’s creation, anyway?
Take my hand.
Together,
We’ll raise them to the sky,
Thank it for its clarity,
Feel our true natural dignity rise,
Then can we stand?
And Breathe, and Love,
And Bloom,
And Be a beautiful part of the
Art of this creation?
It is clear to me
What I must do.
And how about you?
-jenn
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